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But I never would have guessed he knew my name.
I stared at him in shock.
My client looked over at the young woman with the glasses.
If she had any reaction, I certainly didn’t see it – but my client immediately turned his eyes back to me and said, “So… are you Rachel Bauer, or not?”
“Who gave you that name?” I asked coldly.
“So you are,” he said with a smile. “I’m friends with an Englishman who is, let’s say, ‘politically connected.’ He suggested you. He also said you worked for MI6 once upon a time. Is that part true as well?”
Now I really was alarmed.
I began building a mental list of people who might have outed me, but the number grew into the double digits within seconds.
Any Member of Parliament who had dealings with MI6 – like the two guys who had been there when I punched Alistair – could have found out my name.
Although it would have been illegal – and potentially treasonous – to reveal that information to anyone who didn’t have the proper security clearance.
But amongst the incredibly wealthy, it was probably just a juicy tidbit shared amongst friends.
Stock tips… investment opportunities…
Information on assassins for hire…
“You seem to know a lot about me,” I said icily.
He held up his hands in a placating motion. “As I said, I merely wanted to make sure you were who I thought you were. My source said you were the best MI6 agent in decades and that you’d left under unfortunate circumstances to strike out on your own.”
The words were flattering – but no less alarming.
If someone knew my true identity and could connect it to my codename Diana…
Then how many fucking people out there knew who I actually was?!
“Who told you?” I demanded.
“That, I cannot say,” he replied apologetically.
“How fucking convenient.”
In an apparent bid to calm me down, my client said, “My source was also quite emphatic that if I ever told anyone else that name, you would likely kill me. So I assure you, your secret is safe with me and my associates.”
I continued glaring at him for a few seconds, then sighed in annoyance. “Alright. Let’s assume for the moment that I am Rachel Bauer and that I plan to take your job. Are there any other people I need to kill? Lieutenants or other associates of this Rosolini fellow?”
“No,” my client said with a relieved smile. “If you kill him and him alone, that will be quite satisfactory.”
“How well guarded is Rosolini, exactly?”
He pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper like an architect might use. “Why don’t we take a look?”
162
The job was a logistics nightmare.
A ten-foot wall circling 100 acres, with another thousand acres of land around it owned by Rosolini.
A three-story mansion as big as a palace, with 40 to 80 armed guards at any given moment.
